The Quagmire and the Ring
by Codenamezinc
Summary: Tony has something important he needs to talk to Gibbs about. Hopefully, he won't get head-slapped.


A/N: Thanks so much to Zaedah for her awesome beta skills! This story is a million times better because of her suggestions and help.

Tony slowly walked down the stairs to Gibbs' basement. He was dreading this discussion. The shaking had started around noon. But body tremors and a sudden bout of nausea be damned, this conversation had to happen. He couldn't go forward without making his intentions known. Of course, there was always the chance that Gibbs would slap him to death before he could get out of the basement. Tony really hoped that wouldn't happen. He had been planning on living a nice, full life free of bruises to the brain. _Oh well, some things just can't be avoided,_ Tony thought as he tripped on the bottom stair. Right. End of the staircase. That put him in the basement. This was his cue to begin**.** He made a half-hearted attempt at clearing his throat. Gibbs didn't look up from his sanding.

_Now or never. Suck it up, DiNozzo. Be a man._

"I need to tell you something, boss."

Gibbs nodded. The sanding continued. Up and down. Up and down. Man, was it dusty in there. Place smelled like an overstocked Home Depot. _Focus, DiNozzo._

"I'm not asking for your permission and I'm going do it whether you approve or not, but I wanted you to know that I'm going to ask Ziva to marry me." _Please don't slap me, please don't slap me._

Gibbs looked up; a half smile was threatening to overtake his face. His hands never stopped moving the scratchy paper. "Congratulations, Tony."

_Wait, what?_ This was _Ziva_ he was trying to marry. Ziva who was wily and unpredictable. Ziva who was not easily won over. Ziva who was going to take one look at his Nonna's ring, laugh in his face, and never speak to him again. "But she hasn't said yes, Boss."

"She will." The smile had turned into that smug little know-it-all smirk. Tony really hated that smirk. And the sanding. Gibbs never stopped sanding. Shouldn't that boat have turned into little pieces of dust by now?

"Did you two have a super-secret sneaky meeting without me?"

Gibbs shook his head. Tony was silent for several minutes as he watched his boss methodically sand the boat. Where had the man learned to be so Zen? The slow, repetitive motions looked so smooth and calming while he felt like a faulty fuse about to blow the carved wood to smithereens.

"She's said no before." Tony spoke so quietly he was pretty sure Gibbs' superpowers wouldn't be able to hear him. Of course, he was wrong.

Gibbs put down the sand paper and turned towards the stairs. Something in his face appeared to be channeling a very scary higher power that Tony didn't want to mess with. Gibbs looked him straight in the eye.

"You're not Ray."

The force of the simple statement almost knocked Tony backwards. How could Gibbs have that much faith in him? How could Gibbs look at him and tell him he trusted Tony to not mess up his own life and Ziva's too when Tony didn't even trust himself? Tony knew with sudden clarity that he was just another version of the CIA scumbag. He could never not be Ray. It didn't work like that and Tony's Italian guilt complex couldn't have Gibbs thinking otherwise. Tony was suddenly prepared prove to Gibbs that he was no better than a CIA hit man in jail for life. "But I've stood her up, I've kept secrets from her, I've-"

"Tony." Gibbs put down the sander and poured them both a glass of bourbon. "Ray did those things because he couldn't love Ziva more than he loved his job. You do those things out of some misguided idea that you can protect her. You want to protect her because you love her, Tony. It's natural." Gibbs took a sip from his glass and looked at his senior agent. Tony expected to see that coy smirk that drove him to the brink of insanity five times a week, but instead saw patience and acceptance and some kind of paternal love. Was _El Jefe_ going soft?

Tony knocked back his glass to better process everything Gibbs was trying to say to him. It tasted like alcoholic rust. "So you're saying I'm a jerk because I love her?"

Gibbs nodded and went back to sanding his boat. Tony stood and watched, comforted by the back and forth motions and the low, scratchy noise. Zen. He needed more Zen in his life. Less confusion, less doubt. Maybe a boat. He should build a boat. Then he and Ziva could sail off into the sunset just like-

"Well?"

Tony snapped out of his thoughts. "Well what, boss?"

"You gonna stand in this basement all night or are you gonna propose?" Gibbs looked like he might administer a head slap of epic proportions if Tony didn't get moving.

"Right, boss. I'm off. To claim my bride. Or attempt to claim her. She's awful picky about that stuff." Tony bounded up the steps. When he got to the top, Gibbs' chuckle stopped him.

"Hey, DiNozzo!"

Tony turned. "Yeah?"

"There better be a ring on her finger tomorrow."

Tony grinned. "Got it, Boss. Mission accepted."


End file.
